Cupcakes

Maybe I’m just sheltered, but I never knew about jumbo marshmallows until I saw a large palate of them in a grocery store near the shore a few weeks ago. As a proponent of campfires and burning marshmallows to a charred, crispy, oozing sweet goodness, you would imagine that I got excited.

With the summer finally here, it’s time we break out the mallows and start toasting away. But wait…there’s more you can do with a marshmallow than toast it in a fire? Well yes, and here are ten favorite, craziest ways:

10. Chocolate and Caramel Covered Marshmallow Pops

Whenever we’re making caramel apples, I make sure no caramel goes to waste. I dip marshmallows in the caramel, then set them in the freezer. Why didn’t I think of then dipping in chocolate afterwards? I’m ashamed. The peeps (no pun intended) at the turtle’s life for me made these. A layer of crushed Oreos after the caramel and before the chocolate would MAKE these.

9. Toasted Coconut Marshmallows

They sell toasted coconut marshmallows in stores — but I’m pretty sure they couldn’t even compare to homemade toasted coconut-covered marshmallows. Now imagine this: they are made with jumbo marshmallows. I’m thinking you can coat the store-bought jumbo marshmallows in melted butter and the toasted coconut would stick. Or just make them from scratch. Whoever said marshmallows are boring: you lose.

Editor’s Note: Snebbu will be bringing you more of his 100 ways to use beer in food and drinks shortly, but first: a brief holiday interruption. With Cinco de Mayo just around the corner, longtime ES reader Pyrles joins us with a holiday recipe that combines two of our favorite things: cupcakes…and beer!

When people think about beers to include in baked treats, I’m guessing Corona doesn’t often come to mind. In fact, I cannot myself explain why I thought this was a good idea in the first place. Even making the batter, I had my doubts. The first whiff of what a friend deemed “skunk beer” when I opened the bottle nearly made me scrap the idea entirely. But for whatever reason — in this case, love of a good challenge and desire to turn a favorite drink into a dessert — I made the cupcakes. And they are wonderful.

As I’ve come to expect from throwing beer into my cake batter, the cupcakes’ texture is fantastic: moist, but not dense. The Corona flavor comes through, but it is muted enough under the citrus. I may not have identified the beer if I didn’t bake these myself! The Bacardi Limon in the frosting compliments the cupcakes well and undercuts the sweetness of the buttercream.

Corona Cupcakes

Editor’s Note: Wouldn’t have guessed this on Monday, but apparently lemon cupcakes are huge on Endless Simmer this week. Also, please welcome Jody, previous guest poster, to the ES family.

I’m the first to admit that I’m not a baker. My husband is a close second. When he hears muffin tins clanging or sees a dust cloud of flour fumigating the kitchen, he says things like “baking is a science” and “you are following a recipe, right?” (Italics are totally his.)

I try. I honestly try to follow a recipe. But the world plots against me. Take the other morning.

I am making green lemon cupcakes for St. Patrick’s Day and follow The Recipe to the letter. Well, except for omitting the lemon curd filling and butter cream icing because they are each sub-recipes and therefore omittable. Let them eat plain cake.

First cream the sugar and butter. Measure and mix the dry ingredients. Allow four eggs to come to room temperature. I stumble a bit on the “room temperature” part. How will I know? But that’s silly. I’m not a Coors Light drinking idiot unable to discern temperature by touch alone, relying instead on color-changing technology. I’m a big girl. With hands.

Focus. I grate the peels of three lemons. And squeeze them. Confident that I’ve obviously turned a corner, I read the end of The Recipe which, granted, should have happened earlier. But who’s that organized? I’m spontaneous. A common excuse for the unorganized. The recipe taunts me from my computer screen. “1 cup buttermilk.” Buttermilk? Who in the hell has buttermilk? I sure don’t.

I know there are a lot of you cupcake haters here on ES, and yes, I am still trying to convert you. Can I offer you a cupcake with a boozy limoncello curd center that will drip, pour and ooze its way into likeability?

Come on, check out that money shot, begging you to take a bite and taste its tartness. Actually, it was really tart when I first made it so instead of adding more sugar to the mix to even it out, I decided to step it up with some limoncello. Booze is, after all, the grand equalizer in food — alright, that’s just my personal philosophy. It works more often than not to even out a too-strong flavor, and as expected here, it didn’t fail.

So, my dear cupcake haters, brace your tastebuds and take in a rich lemon cupcake body filled with a limoncello curd that’s then been stacked with piles of coconut sweet buttercream frosting, then covered in sweetened coconut.

And trust me when I say the lemon and coconut pairing is quite damntastic!

I’m going to be blunt. You need this. So seriously, get to the store and buy yourself a bottle of Pinnacle Cake Vodka. Can life get better? Yes, I’m sure it can. But in terms of having a low-cal cupcake that can pull double duty as a cocktail — I don’t think so.

Plus, this is an easy-to-make, 20-minute dessert. Do yourself a favor and make a lot, because trust me, they go quickly. To shortcut the time even further, bypass making the chocolate shell and serve these in little shot glasses with wooden spoons and they will look just as fun and festive.

BTW — I’m kinda crazy for the whole line of Pinnacle vodkas, so don’t be surprised if you see a few more boozy bites using their stuff. No, I’m not a pitch person for them. I’m just fascinated by their flavor-infused vodkas — hello, butterscotch, cookie dough, cotton candy, marshmallow and whipped cream.

So after you make this Cupcake Pudding Shooter, come back and see what’s next.

Cupcake Pudding Shooters

Last week I couldn’t figure out what the deal is with Christmas cookies. And after some ranting, I was still curious-slash-irritated. I decided that I’d actually rather eat the dreaded cupcake over some snickerdoodle. Let’s stroll through some other Christmas eats more exciting than those damn cookies.